Chapter 2 - The House with the Blue Door
Maya had been asked that question before.
Usually by patients who had spent so long being treated like problems that ordinary kindness felt suspicious.
She looked at Grant, then at the tiny infant shivering beneath his damp blanket.
“Because your son doesn’t get to choose whether you ask for help.”
Grant’s jaw tightened.
It was not anger.
It was shame.
Maya recognized that too.
She stood and held out her hand.
“My house is six blocks away. You can warm up, feed Owen, sleep for an hour, then decide what you want to do.”
Grant stared at her hand.
“You invite strangers home often?”
“No.”
“Then this seems like a terrible idea.”
“It probably is.”
Ellie leaned around her mother.
“We have tomato soup.”
Maya sighed.
“Apparently we’re negotiating now.”
“And grilled cheese.”
“Ellie.”
“What? He looks hungry.”
For the first time, something changed in Grant’s face.
A tiny crack appeared in the exhaustion.
Almost a smile.
Twenty minutes later, Maya was unlocking the blue front door of the small Craftsman house she rented in Wallingford.
Their golden retriever, Murphy, bounded toward them before stopping abruptly at the sight of Grant.
Murphy sniffed.
Grant froze.
“He’s friendly,” Ellie announced.
Murphy sniffed Owen’s blanket and immediately sat down.
“See?”
The house was modest and imperfect.
Children’s drawings covered the refrigerator. A laundry basket waited beside the stairs. Three library books were stacked on the coffee table. A plastic dinosaur lay beneath the couch.
Grant stood in the entryway as if he had entered another world.
Maya pointed upstairs.
“Bathroom. Towels are in the cabinet. I probably have sweatpants that belonged to my brother somewhere.”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re dripping on my floor.”
Grant looked down.
Five minutes later he surrendered.
While he showered, Maya examined Owen.
Cold hands.
No fever.
Slight diaper rash.
Hungry.
Exhausted.
Otherwise healthy.
She warmed formula while Ellie sat beside the infant.
“Hi, Owen,” she whispered. “I’m Ellie. Murphy is the dog. He snores, but he’s nice.”
Owen stared at her.
Then, astonishingly, stopped crying.
When Grant returned wearing oversized gray sweatpants and an old University of Washington sweatshirt, he stopped in the doorway.
His son was quiet.
Ellie was making ridiculous fish faces.
Owen was watching her with enormous blue eyes.
Grant stared.
“How?”
Ellie shrugged.
“I’m funny.”
Maya handed him the bottle.
“Sit.”
“I can—”
“Grant.”
Something in her nurse voice defeated him.
He sat.
Maya guided Owen into a better feeding position.
“Slowly.”
Grant watched every movement.
“Why did nobody show me this?”
“Did you ask?”
He looked at her.
“No.”
“There’s your answer.”
That stung.
Maya saw it.
She did not apologize.
Instead she made soup.
Grant ate two bowls.
Then a third.
Ellie talked enough for all three of them.
She explained that Maya burned pancakes, Murphy feared the vacuum cleaner, and her teacher believed Ellie talked during class despite Ellie’s firm conviction that she was merely “contributing.”
Grant actually laughed.
It transformed him.
For a second he looked younger.
Human.
At 11:18, Maya found him asleep on the couch.
Owen was asleep against his chest.
Grant’s hand rested protectively across the baby’s back.
Maya pulled a blanket over both of them.
Then she noticed his phone on the floor.
The screen had illuminated.
Thirty-eight missed calls.
The newest notification appeared.
DANIEL REEVES: WHERE ARE YOU? THE BOARD IS PANICKING. CALL ME.
Another appeared immediately.
SEATTLE BUSINESS WIRE: GRANT KINGSLEY ABSENT FROM EMERGENCY VOTE AT KINGSLEY DYNAMICS.
Maya stared at the name.
Kingsley.
No.
She picked up her own phone and searched.
The first photograph made her stomach drop.
The exhausted stranger sleeping on her secondhand couch was wearing a tuxedo in the picture.
GRANT KINGSLEY, 37 — FOUNDER AND CEO OF KINGSLEY DYNAMICS. ESTIMATED NET WORTH: $4.8 BILLION.
Maya slowly lowered the phone.
“Mom?”
Ellie stood behind her.
“Why are you making that face?”
Before Maya could answer, headlights swept across the living-room wall.
One vehicle.
Then another.
Then four more.
Black SUVs stopped outside the house.
Car doors opened.
Men in dark coats stepped into the rain.
Grant woke instantly.
Not gradually.
Instantly.
He sat upright, one arm locking around Owen.
His entire expression changed.
The broken father from the park disappeared.
“Turn off the lights.”
Maya stared at him.
“What?”
“Now.”
Something in his voice made her obey.
The house went dark.
Ellie hurried to her mother.
Grant crossed to the window and moved the curtain half an inch.
His face hardened.
“Are those your people?” Maya whispered.
“No.”
Her stomach tightened.
“How do you know?”
“My security vehicles don't have temporary plates.”
A knock struck the front door.
Three slow blows.
Murphy growled.
Then a man's voice came through the rain.
“Mr. Kingsley?”
Grant went completely still.
The stranger outside continued.
“We know you’re in there.”
Maya looked at Grant.
“Who are they?”
Grant turned toward her.
For the first time that night, she saw something in his eyes stronger than exhaustion.
May you like
Fear.
“They’re the reason Vanessa left.”
